Piano Magic: The Journal Of A Disappointed Man
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Piano Magic: The Journal Of A Disappointed Man
I slip and slide through my life, trying to get a grip on the rail. I'm grasping in the dark for a switch that'll turn on some almighty bright white light and thus, illuminate the way, the path, make everything clear as day. And every breath I take seems to be quickly rolled up behind me and filed away in memory. Only a particular scent or dose of weather can pinprick the past and even then, the drawer opens flirtatiously for just a moment.
I have lost touch with everyone I went to school with, everyone in the village where I spent most of my formulative years, everyone I went to college with, everyone I ever worked with. They too, are filed away, often angrily slamming the drawer behind them, over something I said or something I didn't say.
My lovers cannot be traced. I know. I've tried. I've taken trains to their cities and stood on street corners in the miraculous off-chance that they might wander by. But each time, I have returned home, defeated and had to force myself to sleep so that my heart didn't kill me.
I began my autobiography at 23 years old, with the intention that I wouldn't live 'til 25. But I'd done nothing, loved no-one, said nothing of any great importance by that time. The journal of a disappointed man.
I took a position at the Natural History Museum but left after only 3 months due to allergies. Whilst deluding myself that I could reinforce the scientist's power of detached analysis with a poetic intensity, I would cough up my guts on the glass that held the giant stuffed man-o-war. I had a gift of incisive and candid comment, but I failed to ignite it when faced with the apple-cheeked Irish girl who served the tea in the basement canteen. Drunk most nights, in the Black Swan on Canal St, I would attempt to put my own complicated nature under the microscope of a beer glass. I walked home alone, opening the air with bolshy, slurred dictums against religion, ethics, love and life itself.
Lonely, penniless, paralysed by the guilt of never having told my father I loved him, I wander hospital corridors, posing as a visitor. I have wept, enjoyed, struggled and overcome but I remain disappointed.
I have lost touch with everyone I went to school with, everyone in the village where I spent most of my formulative years, everyone I went to college with, everyone I ever worked with. They too, are filed away, often angrily slamming the drawer behind them, over something I said or something I didn't say.
My lovers cannot be traced. I know. I've tried. I've taken trains to their cities and stood on street corners in the miraculous off-chance that they might wander by. But each time, I have returned home, defeated and had to force myself to sleep so that my heart didn't kill me.
I began my autobiography at 23 years old, with the intention that I wouldn't live 'til 25. But I'd done nothing, loved no-one, said nothing of any great importance by that time. The journal of a disappointed man.
I took a position at the Natural History Museum but left after only 3 months due to allergies. Whilst deluding myself that I could reinforce the scientist's power of detached analysis with a poetic intensity, I would cough up my guts on the glass that held the giant stuffed man-o-war. I had a gift of incisive and candid comment, but I failed to ignite it when faced with the apple-cheeked Irish girl who served the tea in the basement canteen. Drunk most nights, in the Black Swan on Canal St, I would attempt to put my own complicated nature under the microscope of a beer glass. I walked home alone, opening the air with bolshy, slurred dictums against religion, ethics, love and life itself.
Lonely, penniless, paralysed by the guilt of never having told my father I loved him, I wander hospital corridors, posing as a visitor. I have wept, enjoyed, struggled and overcome but I remain disappointed.
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Piano Magic: The Journal Of A Disappointed Man
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Inne teksty wykonawcy
Piano Magic: The Journal Of A Disappointed Man
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Deleted Scenes
- Piano Magic
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Incurable
- Piano Magic
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A Book I Should Not Read
- Piano Magic
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Bad Patient
- Piano Magic
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Dark Secrets Look For Light
- Piano Magic
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Teksty piosenek
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Pierwsza miłość
Genzie
„Czułem, że muszę zagadać To nie była łatwa sprawa Naszła mnie lekka obawa Nie ma co się zastanawiać Serce mi bije za szybko Tylko piszemy, widzę cię za szybką Kiedy znajdziemy się blisko Emocje”
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Mama (piosenka z 'Mam talent')
Bartek Wasilewski
„Bartek Wasilewski wykonał ten utwór w programie "Mam talent". Życie ma psychikę że odbiera czasem mowę twoje oczy tak piękne prawie jak karmelowe ja jestem twoim synem zawsze będę pamiętał ja”
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I że czuje się sam - feat. Michał Szczygieł (prod. Michał Głomski)
Julia Rocka
„Znowu dzwonił do mnie w nocy i wysyłał wiadomości, których mam już dosyć. (Oooo) Nie chcę dłużej tego znosić, nigdy nie zrozumiem o co jej w sumie tak naprawdę chodzi. (Oooo) To nie trwało za dłu”
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Chłopiec - feat. Patrycja Markowska, Sarius (prod. Zalucki)
Sebastian Fabijański
„Mamo zobacz jak twój syn już dziś nie płacze Bo jestem ponad, a błędy biorę na klatę Szukam Boga tam gdzie czeka tylko Diabeł By z dna wyciągać tych, co widzieli mój upadek Ale wstałem. Idę dalej,”
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Och i ach
Sylwia Grzeszczak
„Siadam, bo już się zaczął film Zobaczmy go do końca dziś Nasze historie z kilku lat O czym to jest? No, powiedz sam Ten dla dorosłych świat nas zwiódł Co chwilę chciał coś mieć na już Jakąś prze”
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